


Loki: Ragnarok

by Dousenmi



Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: BAMF Loki (Marvel), Post-Thor: Ragnarok (2017), Thor Is a Good Bro
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-24
Updated: 2017-12-15
Packaged: 2019-02-06 07:17:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12812442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dousenmi/pseuds/Dousenmi
Summary: Why don’t you just tell him? Heimdall thought, amused, seeing Loki fake writhing on the ground while he conjured an illusion of his veins jutting out. It’ll take too long, Loki replied, besides it’s easier if I just go it alone, I have some things to settle.You could have at least spared him the heartbreak of inflicting pain on you. The Gatekeeper said.Well it’s not my fault he forgot what he was taught. Anyone’s that been through compulsory education will know that fabric doesn’t conduct electricity. That’s why they put the disc directly on your skin. Loki wasn’t about to be blamed for his brother’s ignorance yet again.





	1. Asgard

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Marvel owns these characters, I merely like to reimagine them in new ways.

Loki had always known Thor would return, would know something was wrong the moment he banished Heimdall, but he took a bit too long, and Loki had been unprepared.

He looked at the hammer, so far, yet inevitably coming towards him. He wondered where it would rip him apart, based on the position of Thor’s hand (to the diagonal left downwards of him), Mjolnir would probably rip through his heart, down through his liver and guts, then finally arrive bloodied in Thor’s hands. Would his not brother still grieve then, even after all this time? For a moment Loki contemplated death, contemplated standing still, looking death in the eyes as he welcomed it with open arms.

Mjolnir inched ever closer, Loki did not budge, and he felt Thor tense behind him. “Brother,” he breathed, this time in panic instead of warning. Loki wondered, briefly, what Thor’s decision would be, but the temptation to see what Thor would do now that he was back in Asgard was too great. The oaf’s expression would be worth it, he thought. So he stepped away.

“Alright, I yield!”

All the more to stroke his buffoon not brother’s ego.

His heart was still palpitating in his chest, the magnitude of his decision only now hitting him, as it was Thor; he could see the disbelief and the panic in his eyes still. There was only one thing to do now.

Loki spread his arms theatrically, a mad grin worn on his face, just as he had done so many times before. Thor’s face hardened. They were back to this usual dance, _back home at last_ , Loki’s traitorous mind provided.

“You just couldn’t stay away, could you?”

Loki continued to let Thor feel as if he had the upper hand, fumbled, stuttered, stumbled his way backwards over the dais and onto the sofa as if Thor and his big hammer (ha!) intimidated him.

“Alright! I know where he is!”

Thor practically dragged him to the Bifrost, aimed for New York, and plunged the sword in. What haste, Loki barely had time to disguise them and Thor’s big, conspicuous hammer.

 

Alright, so maybe Loki had miscalculated. He’d forgotten that the Midgardians' mayfly lives meant they demolished and rebuilt at a faster rate than Asgard, which is why he had no answer for Thor as they stood watching the excavators working on the nursing home.

Loki frowned as he saw the orange ring of sparkles at his feet; he’d not seen it in quite awhile. Thor, as ever, peered at him in suspicion. Loki raised his hands in a half shrug.

“This is not my doing.”

He fell into a dark space, a space where light and darkness existed at once, where there was no up, no down, nothingness and everything at the same time. He sighed, he’d thought her successor would be slightly more creative. Raising his hand, Loki made a move as if slicing through the air and stepped out into the New York Sanctorum.

Her stalwart student was there to greet him. “Wong, nice to see you’re doing well.”

Wong gave a small smirk, it was as close to a smile as that man ever got, Loki thought.

“I wanted to see how he’d fare against you. It was just as I predicted.”

“Then why did she choose him?”

“He’ll learn yet. He has potential, and his ego is slightly tempered, though he still needs to check his arrogance and open his mind further.”

Loki hummed as he cloaked the both of them in shadows and followed Stephen Strange as he led Thor around the Sanctum in a parlour trick.

“It’ll take years yet.”

Thor and Strange’s conversation seemed to be drawing to a close, and Loki rolled his eyes as Thor summoned his hammer. What a show off. As if sorcerers didn’t call things to them every other minute.

“It’s time for the show then, acting has always been my forte after all.”

“Loki.” Wong’s hand settled on his shoulder just as he was about to step forward.

Wong seemed to hesitate, then said, “You have always offered advice and help when it was needed. I know not what has befallen you, or how to help you, but know that I know you as Loki, my friend, my teacher and my teacher’s friend. You will always be welcome in my home. And I know you miss my wife’s cooking.”

Loki was almost tempted to smile. But he did soften his gaze somewhat, for Wong was sincere, this he knew. Then he stepped forward into the amateur portal and let himself fall.

“I have been falling for _30 minutes_!” Loki let the right amount of rage and incredulity into his voice. Not too much, or he’d be overdo it and step into ham territory. Just the right amount.

“You think yourself a sorcerer?” _Oh darling you don’t even know zero point zero zero one percent of what I know_ , Loki thought. He almost broke character when he brandished his knives, oh he loved that particular move, it always made him feel tingly, and it looked and felt amazing, theatrical and classy at the same time. Loki smoothed his face into an expression of mad rage, or rage tinged with madness, then ran forward into the portal. Really, did Strange think his enemies were just going to run towards him through the portal? It was so obviously another place on the other side. Oh well. Maybe he’d come back in another hundred years and see if he made a worthy successor. Loki let himself fall forward for Thor’s amusement, he always underestimated him anyway, but Loki had learnt it was good to keep his cards close to his chest.


	2. Midgard

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, everyone! Thank you so much to everyone's who's commented and kudos-ed! It means a lot to me. I'm really sorry for the long wait, hopefully the updates will come frequently now. Hope you enjoy this chapter! Feel free to point out any typos of grammatical errors.

Reflecting upon the past few years, and on looking at Odin’s face now, Loki realized how weary the All− Father had looked. But now the weary lines on the old king’s face had smoothed over into a calm acceptance, as if all the burdens of the world had slipped off his shoulders. Loki wasn’t sure if he liked it, Odin was supposed to be strong, silent, commanding, a stoic face belying his shrewdness.

They looked out now, the three of them, over the cliffs and the horizon, towards the swirling grey−blue clouds and white−crested seas. The wind whipped all three of their long hair back, slithering and writhing amongst them like a serpent, yet at the same time it seemed all was silent with the world.

Even his own intentions weren’t clear to Loki, not then and not now; he didn’t know why exactly he’d left Odin on Midgard – wait, he did, Odinsleep had besieged Odin in an instant and there was nowhere on Asgard he could store him without suspicion – but he didn’t know why he hadn’t visited or retrieved him. The elderly care home had a good reputation, and the Midgardians were easily enough fooled into believing Odin in a coma. Really, it was a good life, daily entertainment and nutritious food, Loki might be malicious, but he wasn’t heartless. What niggled at him though, was why Odin hadn’t returned when he’d awakened and broken through Loki’s spell. All that he needed to do was call out for Heimdall and Loki would be easily deposed, Odin’s throne restored. Had not Odin always insisted on Thor’s rightness for the throne? Of Loki’s unsuitability for it?

Had Loki been more generous he would have thought that Odin had finally seen Loki’s potential, that the fact that Asgard flourished, with unemployment at a 1000−year low, the economy growing, gross output increasing, the signing of new trade agreements, had swayed Odin’s opinion and stayed his hand. But Loki knew better than to hope, so he knew that Odin had his own reasons for his actions, that likely he had a plan that Loki would not recognize until it was already in place, for the old man’s mind was not easily deciphered.

“It took me some time to break through your spell; Frigga would have been proud.” Odin said, as peaceably as if talking about the weather, as though Loki had not taken his throne and prevented him from remembering until Loki was done with it.

Loki’s heart ached with the mention of his mother. _Would_ she have been proud of him? Of his magic and what he’d chosen to do with it? Once, almost a lifetime ago now, Loki would have squashed this notion, disgusted at himself of once again seeking his false family’s approval. Though now he’d finally stopped arguing with himself, and let go; for whatever his quarrels with Odin, with Thor, Frigga had ever been kind, and gentle, and understanding, she would always be his mother.

Loki knew what was coming, had seen the signs long ago, had seen the All−Father’s weariness, but nothing prepared him for this,

“I love you, my sons.”

And Loki wanted to rage, rage, to scream and claw Odin’s face and demand to know his games. What was this? What was this newfound love for Frost Giants? What love? Where was this love long ago, three years ago? _Your birthright was too die!_ He wanted to snarl, Loki had never been his son –

Then his not−father faded away, like his mother did. And Loki wanted to rage and scream even more. But he cannot, he cannot, not here, he struggled to control his breathing, his heartbeat, wrench his magic back from his fingertips where he needed to let it break free. Thor, Thor was saying something, where was Thor?

“You did this, Loki.”

 _I did this, I did this. I did not mean it! This is not how it’s supposed to end!_ For Odin should have come home, Thor should have come home, and removed him from the throne, and maybe they would have granted him clemency, a place by their side where Loki's silvertongue and quick mind had use.

“Brother…”

_Oh my brother, forgive me! Forgive me for all that I’ve done. I would take your punishment, your wrath, but turn not away from me, come home from your wanderings._

It was too late, not soon enough. Hela was here. And Loki wanted to laugh. _Was this part of your plan, O All−Father, to show that those of your line would always be more powerful, more worthy, than little Loki? That this was what you had in store for me, to mould me into a weapon and lock me away after you had no more use of me?_

Now was not the time or place, now was the time to focus, to regroup. Thus Loki shoved his turmoil and his emotions away, locked his amygdala with bright coils of seidr. A calm settled over him, rippling over his face, and left in its wake an unvarnished mien.

“Kneel.” This Hela, scion of Odin, dared to tell him. _Excuse me? That’s my line, lady._

“Kneel, before your Queen.” Oh now this was rich, another power hungry, vain, arrogant offspring to sprout from Odin’s seed. Except this one, it seemed, had the skill and talent to back it up.

The both of them had no hope of defeating Thor’s elder sister if only Odin’s power kept her at bay, and Loki was not about to bet on her getting rusty even after 1000 years of confinement. Loki had to think quickly, and fast. Problem was, Odin hadn’t been terribly helpful or descriptive. What did Hela want? Asgard was but connected to only the other eight realms, if she wanted to conquer more she’d need more than just drawing power from Asgard.

Loki spoke. “Perhaps we can come to an arrangement.”

“You sound like him.” Now Hela was amused, but they were nowhere near to resolving this. Loki wasn’t fooled by her non−combativeness now. They needed to get back to Asgard quickly, to gather the sorcerers and the warriors. Hela likely knew of the pathways between Yggdrasil, but they were not near one now, and they required not an insignificant amount of energy to open and traverse. Asgard would have a headstart.

He prepared to grab Thor’s arm, but Thor had other plans.

Loki didn’t know what he’d expected, he didn’t think even the might of Mjolnir would stop Hela, but he certainly did not expect Hela to stop her path and crush her to pieces. Immediately revising his estimation of their latest foe, Loki called for the Bifrost.

“Bring us back!”

The colours and energy of the Bifrost immediately swallowed them.

But Hela followed.

Loki was panicking now as he saw Hela beneath them. This was not possible. The Bifrost only took whoever was in their immediate path, that’s why it’s always used as an escape means; the energy of the Bifrost set up an insurmountable energy barrier between the bridge and its surroundings, all should be repelled by it.

Even worse, Hela was somehow advancing through the bridge. Had she somehow manipulated its energies to change her thrust and velocity?

Loki prepared his knives.

Then he was falling, falling, all the darkness and stars swirling around him as he was pulled into another pathway. Loki felt oddly calm about it all. Perhaps it was the experience? If one can ever claim experience of falling. He knew, in some back part of his mind, that he may fall into the clutches of the Titan, but Loki cannot bring himself to care, right now. He could only admire the way the colours met dizzyingly, like the palette of a watercolour painter. An artist’s canvas. Van Gogh.


End file.
